Those Potter Boys
by NymeriaBjartskular
Summary: The War lasted longer than any could have predicted. Lily Potter's sacrifice when Harry was four saved the wizarding world, and Sirius made sure everyone knew it. Harry saved his brother on the same night. Sirius keeps the Potters safe, secure and separate from the larger wizarding world. Aged sixteen, the Potter Heir makes his reappearance, ready to shock and shape Magical Britain
1. The Beginning

**AN. Hey all, this is my first HP fic. Hope you like it. Rated T for now, will probably go to M later.**

**Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. Sad.**

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**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

Harry lay on his bed, watching the dragon and phoenix chase each other around his room. Uncle Frank had given him a set of enchanted toys for his last birthday, all of them miniature magical creatures that could run around and interact with each other. Or in this case fly. These two were his favourite. Obviously. What four-year old doesn't love dragons and fire birds? Duh.

He rubbed his stomach absentmindedly, his eyes drawn from the dragon which had victoriously pinned the phoenix against the floor up towards the ceiling above him, where hundreds of tiny little lights twinkled. His mother, a master of charms, had changed it for him after he came back from camping with his dad last summer and raved about all the stars he'd seen that night.

Today had been a good day for Harry. Halloween was fun.

It started off with pumpkin carving. Or rather, pumpkin gutting and then pumpkin carving. James had wanted to do it all by magic, but Lily insisted that the only way to properly carve a pumpkin was to get elbow deep in all the goo and make a right mess of it. So that's what they did.

When the pumpkins were finally gutted, Lily put all the insides into a big bowl and then placed it in front of Charlie.

Charlie. Harry's younger brother. His best mate (even though he was only 1 and a bit).

Charlie looked like Christmas had come early. He stuck his two fists into the bowl of orange goo and started to giggle. He picked up a couple of handfuls of the stuff and gave them a squeeze until his hands were stained with pumpkin juice. He gave one finger an experimental lick and grinned in delight at the familiar taste.

Harry started to giggle at his brother. He knew where this was going.

Sure enough, Charlie swiped another chunk of stringy guts from the bowl in front of him before plonking it straight on top of his head.

Harry started giggling louder. Charlie started giggling. James fell out of his seat he was laughing so hard. Harry turned to his mum only to see her with tears of mirth streaming down her face. She quickly reached behind her and grabbed a wizarding camera off the counter. A flash later and the memory was saved.

A while later and they had all calmed down a bit. Harry carved his pumpkin into a big scary face. At least he thought so. He may have heard his mum say it was adorable. Surely not.

After that Harry got to help his mum make toffee apples for the evening. Lily had a serious fight on her hands to ensure that there would be enough toffee in the first place. There was more than one yelp from James after he was hit with a stinging hex while trying to sneak spoonfuls of the sugary goodness. Harry was grateful for his dad's interruptions. Every time James got caught, Harry sneaked his own spoon into the pot.

To round off a great afternoon, they had Harry's favourite dinner. Baked ham, mashed potatoes and peas. Awesome.

Harry twisted on to his side to look out the window. Dad said they couldn't go out trick or treating because it was too dangerous, but he wouldn't say why. Instead, Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus would be coming over soon. Then they could finally have those toffee apples. Harry almost started salivating at the thought.

He was just drifting off for a quick nap, when a loud siren started wailing. He shot up out of bed and threw his hands over his ears, desperately trying to block out the terrifying noise. His heart beat was jagged and painful and his breath was getting shorter and shorter.

He could just about hear his dad downstairs, even over all the screeching. "LILY! THE WARDS ARE FALLING! HE'S HERE!" James screamed.

"JAMES!" Lily cried back. She must have come back upstairs, Harry realised numbly. He was cowering in the corner. Something bad was happening. "WE NEED TO GET OUT!"

Just then, the wailing cut out. Deathly silence.

"Lily, get the kids and-" James called, before he was cut off by a loud _boom_ that shook the house.

The front door was blasted open and James went with it as he flew across the hallway and smashed into the wall. He groaned and slowly rose to his feet, hissing as he did so. Broken ribs. Concussion.

Shit.

He forced himself to shout once more, grimacing through the pain. "Lily! Get the kids! Get out! I'll hold him off!" He gathered himself. Gathered his Gryffindor courage, all his skills as an auror, his knowledge as a Potter, his love for his family. "I love you!"

He summoned his Patronus. His faithful stag. "Go to Padfoot. Voldemort has attacked. Look after my family, Sirius."

He tried a brief healing charm on his ribs. It helped a bit. Not enough.

A cloak swished in the gaping cavern where the doorway used to be. From the swirling dust and black night stepped his greatest foe. The man come to kill his family. Not if James Potter could help it.

"Potter," Voldemort sneered. "Would you rather I kill you before or after the rest of your family is dead?" James stood his ground. He needed to buy Lily time. Even if it meant listening to this drivel. "Or maybe," the Dark Lord hissed, stepping further into the entranceway, "You would prefer to see your wife taken by another. She has been promised to a loyal servant."

James bristled. Snivellus. That fucking evil bastard.

"Three times we have met now," Voldemort continued, gliding further into the ruined entranceway, "And each time you have survived. Mere luck on your part, I assure you." He gazed around the hideout impassively. "You will not survive this meeting. That too, I assure you."

James stood firm. He had accepted his fate. He had only one duty left.

The eldest living Potter issued his warning, knowing it would do nothing but delay the monster in front of him. "Leave now, Voldemort. Should you bring harm to my family this night, you will not see tomorrow's sunrise. I promise you that."

"You dare speak my name? You filthy blood traitor!" Voldemort hissed in rage. "Crucio!"

James resisted the urge to scream for as long as he could, his body on fire. It felt like someone had ripped the skin off his body and then thrown him into hot oil. He could only last so long under the power of the utter hatred emanating from the murderer before him.

He screamed until he tasted blood in his mouth. At last it stopped.

He was curled up on the floor at the bottom of the staircase. His muscles were spasming, tears dripping down his face from the sheer pain.

His time was coming fast. He knew it. And the little voice in his head knew it too. A little voice which sounded suspiciously like his dead grandmother, Dorea Black.

_Get up James. You are a Potter. You are a Black. You have bought Lily enough time. Get up and die on your feet._

He unfolded his limbs and slowly started pushing himself up, using the wall for leverage. The pain faded to the background. Voldemort watched indifferently.

Quick as a flash, James fired off a series of curses, shrugging off his agony and determined to cause some damage before he bowed out.

The Dark Lord caught them all on a shield. All except one. A Potter family magic special. It slipped through his guard and caught him on the shoulder. Upon impact, the flesh underneath began to boil instantly.

Voldemort screamed in pain and fury and sent a black bolt of light back at James which caught him in the chest. It threw him backwards against the staircase and he heard another few ribs crack. That was the least of his worries. He'd been hit with a lung rotting curse. He had only minutes left.

James fumbled for his wand, breaths bringing stabs of pain with each intake of air. He looked up and saw his wand lying two steps down. At the same moment, he noticed a malevolent green streak of light heading towards him.

Time was up.

_Lily, forgive me._

* * *

Lily was in Charlie's room, tears streaming down her face even as she quickly chanted the last few words of the final phase of the ritual they had begun weeks earlier. Before her, Harry sat holding his brother. The two were at the centre of the runic circle she had drawn a month ago and just minutes previously, activated for the last time.

The wailing signalling the attack on their wards had sparked a nearly all-consuming panic in her. She had run from Charlie's room to the landing at the top of the stairs, desperate to get to her husband.

"JAMES! WE NEED TO GET OUT!"

The sudden silence scared her more than she could even fathom.

"Lily, get the kids and-" her husband started, only to be halted as he was thrown bodily thrown across the room from an explosion that crippled the front of the house.

The blast caused Lily to stumble backwards into the wall behind her. Her thoughts focused, even as her mind warred with itself.

_Get the kids._

She bolted into Harry's room. He was curled into a ball in the corner, small frame shaking and hands clamped over his ears. She didn't say a word, simply scooped him up and ran back across the hall into her youngest son's room. She tried to block out the voice she heard from below, taunting James.

Throwing her strongest locking charms on the door, she turned and placed Harry down on the floor. Going over to the crib, she grabbed Charlie, who was now crying, and hurried back to her eldest.

With Harry holding her hand and Charlie in her arms she attempted to apparate.

Nothing happened.

She tried her emergency portkey that she had hanging from a necklace. Again, nothing.

It wasn't unexpected. It had been standard Death Eater practise for years now to throw up anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards around any house they attacked. If you wanted to live, you had to fight your way out. Nevertheless, Lily's heartrate went up another few notches and her fear spiked again

She turned to her oldest boy, a mini James. But with her eyes. She held back a sob.

"Ok Harry, you remember that game we play where you hold Charlie and Mummy does magic? We need to play that now, ok honey?" she said as she led him over to the middle of the faint circle in the floor. He sat down, legs crossed, clearly terrified. Her heart broke for her child, but she ruthlessly shoved the feelings away. She needed to do this.

Handing the 15-month old to his brother, Lily stepped out of the circle and waved her wand, activating the runes she had painstakingly into the wooden floor.

She began the third and final step of the ritual. Three – a sacred magical number.

A scream of primal fury from downstairs, another blast of spellfire and then silence. She felt something within her break and finally allowed her mask to fall and her composure to slip.

James was gone.

Tears came thick and fast as she uttered the final words. A bright golden glow engulfed her two boys and then faded away. It was done.

There could only be seconds until He arrived. She hurried to put Charlie back in his crib, worried he might be stood on if there was a fight.

A flash of inspiration hit her and she summoned her patronus, a doe.

"Go to Amelia, Minerva and Alice. Peter Pettigrew has betrayed the Potters. He follows Voldemort. Beware."

She allowed herself a moment's satisfaction. Lily Potter would have her vengeance. In this life or the next. Hopefully both.

Her brief second of victory was shattered as the bedroom door was blasted inwards. She got up a shield just in time to stop shards of wood from impaling her family.

The Dark Lord Voldemort stepped through the wreckage. He was bleeding from one shoulder. James had not gone quietly into the night.

Lily pushed Harry behind her and placed herself directly in front of the crib.

She was drowning in fear. She could barely breathe. He was going to kill them all.

"Not my children! Please, have mercy! Not my children!" Lily pleaded.

Voldemort laughed cruelly. "Step aside girl. I am not here for you"

"Please! Have mercy! Not Harry and Charlie! Please!" she cried. Harry was shaking behind her and she could her Charlie whimpering.

Voldemort sneered and brought up his wand. "Step aside! I am here for the youngest. Step aside and I may let your other spawn live." The Dark Lord narrowed his black eyes as the fiery woman before him refused to bow to his demands. He, who had Lords of Ancient and Noble Houses grovelling at his feet, flinching in terror if he even raised his voice. He would not stand for this disrespect.

"Not my children! Please – I'll do anything!" Lily begged, desperate. She had to make him. This was the only way.

His wand snapped up, the unforgivable on his tongue. The Potter line would end tonight.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lily almost sighed in relief. She would see James soon, and though her heart shattered at the thought of losing her sons, of never seeing them grow up, she knew she could do no more.

_I hope this works._

* * *

Harry watched his mother collapse to the floor in front of him. She fell heavily, landing on her back. Her flame-red hair splayed out around her face. Harry looked into her green eyes, the same as his, but she couldn't see him. Harry didn't know how, but he knew she was gone.

The young boy lifted his eyes from his mother's body and caught sight of the man across the room. Harry shivered under his gaze. His black robes seemed to suck all the light out of the room.

Harry's sight drifted to the wand still pointed in his direction and the young boy was suddenly filled with anger. That man was the reason his mother was lying on the floor. He did this.

Without even thinking, Harry screamed and rushed at the man in front of him, his magic pulsing.

For a second, surprise flitted across Voldemort's face before he schooled it into contempt.

"Stupid boy," he spat. With a flick of his wand, Harry was banished across the room into the far wall. The child crumpled into a heap, seeing stars and in pain. "I will finish you in a minute," the Dark Lord hissed.

Voldemort strode forward until he was only a meter from the crib. Charlie was standing up, hands on the bars. He was alternating between looking at his mother on the floor in front of him and his brother on the far side of the room. Only when Voldemort stopped before him did he look up at the cloaked figure. He had stopped crying an there was nothing but curiosity in his young eyes.

Voldemort stared at the child of the prophecy. He was nothing special. He could not imagine how a child could have power that He, the greatest Dark Lord in British magical history, did not. No matter. To ignore prophecy was foolish. The threat would simply have to be ended. Tonight. And from the death of his last real threat he would complete his protection against his own mortality.

"Charlie Potter, this night you die. This night, I complete my rise to power. Avada Kedavra!"

The deathly green spell raced out of the wand and into the forehead of the child in the crib. The second it touched his skin, a sound like a bell being struck rang out through the room. The golden aura that appeared when Lily Potter completed her ritual once more flared into existence. Charlie fell backwards, crying as his forehead burned.

The spell meant to end the young Potter was returned on to its owner. Even as he was blasted backwards, Voldemort screamed in pain as the connection between his body and remaining bit of soul was ruthlessly severed, the unforgivable malevolently causing as much pain as possible to the creature that dared to defy Death itself.

Harry watched all these events happen in disbelief from his place across the room. He was going to lose Charlie too. He didn't even have time to scream before the man who had done this to his family was blasted across the room, landing in a heap of robes. Harry's eyes were glued to the black pile. Was it over?

In the sudden stillness he could hear crying from the crib. Charlie! He wasn't gone!

Harry scrambled to his feet and limped his way across the room. His whole body was hurting. He reached the crib and put his face between the bars, trying to see his brother.

"Charlie! Charlie are you ok? Shhhh, it's ok Charlie," Harry tried to reassure his brother. He could see the bleeding cut on Charlie's face, but his brother did calm down on hearing his voice. The crying quietened to more of a whimper although the young boy's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Charlie crawled back over to Harry and grabbed his hand through the bars.

"It's ok Charlie, Daddy will be here soon, or Sirius. I'll stay with you." Harry kept his eyes on his brother, refusing to look anywhere hear where he knew his mother lay.

A wickedly quiet hissing started behind Harry and his senses were flooded with fear. As the sound grew louder, closer, the dread filled Harry until he felt he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could barely even think.

Charlie's grip on his hand tightened and Harry saw terror in his eyes. The Potter Heir took a deep breath. And another. And turned himself around. Hovering over the pile of now-shrunken robes was a cloud of black mist. It was hissing and pulsing and _evil_.

It started gliding towards them and with each foot closer it came, the air became more oppressive. Harry saw his mother fall again, heard the first explosion that rocked their home and his father's terrified shouts.

Harry felt something bubbling within him, just below the surface. It soothed his aching body and quietened the images in his mind. It gave him resolve.

He placed himself firmly between Charlie and this new threat and allowed the new feeling to fill him up. He felt confident. Powerful.

Angry.

The soul fragment of Voldemort was only feet away from the two boys when the Potter Heir thrust out his hand and shouted "NO!" A blast of magical energy erupted from the small boy. The whole house shook with the power and conviction of the magic being used. Windows shattered and the small bedroom upstairs when the confrontation was taking place was damaged beyond any hope of repair. The ceiling cracked, the furniture was obliterated and the soul fragment vapourised. Curiously, the only thing left standing was the crib.

Harry sagged, exhaustion sweeping through him. He didn't know what he'd just done, but the evil mist was gone.

He sat heavily, leaning back against the crib. "S'ok Charlie," he slurred, reaching his arm through the bars to grasp his brother's hand. "S'ok."

Then Harry passed out.

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**AN. Let me know what you think!**


	2. The Response

**AN. Pretty good reaction to the first chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed! Here's number 2!**

**Again, I own nothing related to HP. Cries. **

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**Chapter 2: The Response**

Remus was sitting on the couch in Sirius' apartment, butterbeer in hand. The pair were reminiscing about the days before the war which, truthfully, was only their schooldays. The Marauders of those days were carefree and innocent of the horrors that war brings.

They were both tired. They had been fighting for nearly seven years. Both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix, while inflicting losses on the Death Eaters, were stretched too thin. The Order in particular had been decimated in the last two years. The Prewitt brothers, Marlene McKinnon, the Bones', Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadowes. All dead. And that was just the people Remus knew personally. There were many others who had died in this fight. The Order was on its last legs and they all knew it.

The Potters, Longbottoms and Amelia Bones – sister of the murdered Edgar – were the only true friends Remus had left. Sirius had a slightly wider circle. He had always been better at socialising than Remus. Between his charm and the Black name, he had drawn people to him from their first day at Hogwarts.

Sirius had just launched into another recollection of a memorable prank when a silver stag burst through the wall into the living room and spoke with a familiar, but unusually solemn, voice.

_Voldemort has attacked. Look after my family, Sirius._

The stag stood for a moment longer then faded from view.

The stunned silence lasted only a second before Sirius shot up off the couch, eyes wild at the thought of his brother-in-all-but-blood and the danger he was in. He was just about to apparate when Remus tackled him to the floor.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Sirius roared. "WE NEED TO GO! JAMES IS IN-" he shouted again, only for Remus to yell right back in his face.

"THINK SIRIUS! WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING!" He pushed himself back to his feet, chest heaving and panic spiking. "Get Frank on the mirror. We'll floo to his and then all of us can apparate over. We'll need all three of us to fight Him off. Hurry! I'll get the armour. GO!"

Remus didn't even wait for Sirius to respond, he just ran to the coat rack near the doorway to get their dragon-hide vests off the hooks. They were pock-marked and scuffed, but they had saved their lives more times than he cared to think about. He skidded back into the living room just as Sirius threw his handheld mirror down onto the couch. It was something that James and Sirius had come up with in school to keep themselves in touch when one of the pair inevitably found themselves in detention. The Order had made good use of the concept for keeping in contact with one another. Especially in emergencies.

Sirius gave a sharp nod to his old friend and took his armour, quickly donning it. Without another word the two grabbed a handful of floo powder and one after another stepped into the emerald flames in the fireplace.

"Longbottom Manor!"

* * *

They stepped into the study of Longbottom manor and were greeted with the worried faces of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

"Sirius, Remus," Frank started, straight down to business. He was already wearing his own armour. "Polly is going to take us the edge of our wards," he said while gesturing towards their house elf. "From there we can apparate to Godric's Hollow."

Just as the last word left his mouth, another Patronus appeared. A doe.

_Peter Pettigrew has betrayed the Potters. He follows Voldemort. Beware._

Lily.

"Let's go," Sirius snarled, rage and fear coursing through his veins. The three men reached out to touch the house elf and were whipped away in a snap and blur of light. The second they landed and had their feet steady, all three apparated with a crack.

They were deposited outside the graveyard in the quiet village. The group took off, running down the street towards the cottage at the end. There was no sign of any Death Eaters. Had they been and gone? Or had He decided this was a deed he would do alone? Remus wasn't sure which was worse.

The cottage came into view and Sirius let out a strangled "Oh god!", even as they continued to sprint. The front of the house was mangled, the doorway gone. Bits of rubble lay strewn around the garden.

They reached the gate and as Frank pushed it open, an explosion upstairs knocked them back. A pure blast of magical power blew out all the windows. It looked like it came from the nursery.

Sirius picked himself up first and continued forward, albeit more cautiously and with his wand at the ready. Remus and Frank gave each other a quick glance and followed their friend. All three cast silencing charms upon themselves as they hurried down the pathway.

Sirius took point, Remus to his right, Frank to the left. They'd done this countless times. No words were needed.

As soon as they passed through the ruined doorway into the gloom, Remus and Frank split off in their respective directions; Remus to check the kitchen and Frank the living room. Sirius stayed in the hall to cover the stairs.

As the pair of seasoned fighters converged back on the hallway, they shared a shake of the head. Sirius was standing at the foot of the stairs. He turned his head slightly to look at Frank, who was startled to see tears tracking down his friend's face. Frank held up a closed fist to indicate that there was no one downstairs. To his horror, Sirius raised a single finger.

Dread filled Remus and Frank. Sirius was blocking their view of the staircase. With heavy steps, they went to his side to see what he was looking at.

James. Lying broken upon the steps.

His eyes open and unseeing, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

An awful weight settled on their shoulders, urging them to fall to their knees and weep for their fallen friend. Their comrade. Their brother.

Two years ago, they probably would have done just that. But with the atrocities they had seen in the last couple of years, they had hardened themselves against such immediate emotional responses. That was likely to get them killed.

_Look after my family, Sirius._

There would be time later for the anguish they were pushing down.

They had to find Lily and the kids.

Remus laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. Then he moved forward and silently levitated James' body off the steps and over to the side of the hallway, carefully setting him down.

The three men quietly made their way upstairs, trying to ignore all the blood underfoot. Once he reached the landing, Sirius glanced each way before turning to the right. Towards the nursery.

It was obvious there had been another fight inside the room. The door was gone, splinters littering the entranceway and what they could see of the room beyond. Dust drifted down from the ceiling and debris was scattered across the floor.

Not a sound came from within, but that didn't really mean anything when magic was involved.

As they gathered together, readying themselves, Sirius held out three fingers against his thigh.

Two.

One.

As the last finger went down, the group closed their eyes and Sirius fired a spell into the room that caused a flash of light ten times brighter than that from a camera, temporarily blinding anyone inside.

They rushed into the nursery, wands ready and almost begging to cause pain to the person who dared to harm the Potters.

There was no threat. Not anymore, at least. What greeted them was what they had feared since the first Patronus appeared less than fifteen minutes ago.

All the Potters, dead.

Lily lay on the floor in front of the crib, glassy eyes faced towards the ceiling, her limbs splayed out carelessly in a way that only happens when that person has been hit by the killing curse. She had died protecting her children.

Remus tore his eyes away from her, his first female friend. Even though they were the same age, Lily had mothered Remus. He loved her. He would have died for her.

His gaze went to the two boys, his nephews in all but blood. Both dead. His heart, which had taken a severe beating already tonight, almost stopped as the reality of what had happened here sunk in.

Harry was slumped against the crib, eyes closed and arm reaching through the bars to grasp his brother's hand. Not even Charlie had been spared. The baby was lying on his back, unmoving. The children had died together.

Remus turned away. He couldn't bear to look any longer. These people had been his family. Now they were gone.

Gazing around the rest of the room, he numbly noted that it was basically obliterated. Other than the crib there was no furniture left standing. The windows were gone and cracks ran across the ceiling. The room was in danger of collapsing.

"Charlie," Frank croaked out. Remus' head whipped around so fast neck almost cracked. Frank was already hurrying across the room, and Remus could see why.

Charlie was _moving_.

Just as Frank reached him, the baby started crying. In an instant, Sirius, who had been on a knee closing Lily's eyes, was beside him.

"I thought he was…" Sirius whispered.

"He must have been stunned by the flash of light," Frank whispered back, reaching in to pick the child up. "God, he's bleeding. What the hell happened here?" he wondered. Sirius reached over and gently wiped Charlie's forehead with his sleeve, revealing a lightning bolt shaped cut. The two men stared at it before Sirius suddenly froze, eyes dropping to his godson who was sitting on the ground.

"If Charlie isn't…then maybe Harry..." he muttered to himself, before swiftly dropping to the ground. He grabbed Harry's wrist and desperately checked for a pulse. For those few seconds it seemed like nobody, not even Charlie, dared take a breath.

"He's alive!" Sirius cried, gathering his godson and cradling him to his chest. Tears ran freely down the man's face.

Remus, voice full of emotion, choked out, "Is he ok? Why isn't he awake?"

"He's unconscious," Sirius answered, eye scanning over Harry's body. "His pulse is really faint. He's injured too." He looked up at Remus and then over to Frank. "Why are they alive?" he asked helplessly. "We know Voldemort was here. He doesn't spare kids. Neither do Death Eaters."

"Maybe it has something to do with that," Frank said grimly, nodding at something beyond Remus. The other two turned their gazes in that direction. On the far side of the room, past the doorway, lay a pile of black robes.

"The only thing the Dark Lord and his followers tend to leave behind after they attack is the Dark Mark," he stated. "I didn't see that above the house, and I've never seen Death Eater robes left behind after a raid either. Something happened here that hasn't happened before." The whole time he was speaking, Frank was gently bouncing Charlie in his arms, calming the youngster down. Charlie was focused on Harry, his older brother completely out for the count.

"Ok," Remus started, thinking furiously. "We can't stay here. Clearly, the Fidelius is gone. If Peter told Voldemort, it's a sure bet the rest of his followers know as well, or they will soon. They could be here any second. And this room looks like it's about to collapse."

"You're right," Sirius said, standing up and holding Harry close. "The boys need to see a healer. Maybe when Harry wakes he can tell us some of what happened. Where will we go?"

"My home," Frank said at once. "We have it under Fidelius as well. It's safe."

"What about Lily and James," Remus asked, willing his voice not to crack. "We can't just leave them here."

"We'll take them with us too," Frank said quietly. "Polly," he called.

The small house elf appeared with a pop. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene around her and then filled with tears when she saw Lily. Miss Lily had always been kind to her.

"Polly, could you please take Lily back home and put her in the guest bedroom. James as well, he's downstairs," Frank asked, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat and continued on. "Please tell Alice we'll be home soon and ask her to call Andi over, ok? I'll explain everything then."

Polly nodded sadly, her large ears flapping. She walked over to Lily and took her hand. With a pop, the two were gone. A few seconds later and another two pops were heard downstairs.

The room was sombre.

Remus cleared his throat. "Is there anything we should get before we leave? Any Potter heirlooms or the like? We can't assume that we'll be able to come back. And what about that?" he asked, indicating at the pile of robes.

After a brief moment of consideration, Sirius said, "Leave the cloak. We don't know what magic is on it. There could be tracking charms, even curses. The aurors will pick it up. I'm sure they'll be here soon." He paused and looked around the room once more. "As far as I know there's nothing of particular value in the house. James told me he'd put everything like that in the Potter vault in case they had to make a quick getaway."

"It doesn't seem as if there's anything of Charlie's left, but maybe we could grab some of Harry's things. Some toys at least. They might help when he wakes up," Frank suggested.

Remus agreed. "Alright, I'll go get them. You two go downstairs and I'll meet you in a second. We've been here too long." At their nods of assent, Remus quickly exited the room and went straight across the landing to Harry's bedroom.

Thinking quickly, he used the summoning spell.

"Accio trunk!"

A suitcase flew out from beneath the bed into Remus' hands. Another summoning spell had bits and pieces flying from around the room into it.

He double-timed it out of the room and downstairs, jumping the last few steps. His two friends were in the hall. Charlie had finally fallen asleep.

"Ready?" Sirius asked. Remus nodded. "Ok, the wards are gone. We can apparate from here."

With that, Sirius and Frank disappeared with a crack. One last glance around him, and Remus was gone too.

* * *

They arrived just outside the Longbottom wards. Sirius clutched Harry to him and strode after Frank who was already walking forward. Remus arrived and jogged to catch up.

As they crossed the ward line, Polly once again appeared with a pop. "Master Frank, I will bring yous to the house," the elf squeaked, holding up her hands.

"Thank you, Polly," Frank said tiredly. Frank and Remus took a hand each, while Sirius grasped her shoulder. Once again, they were whisked away.

They landed in the sitting room and were met by a cacophony of voices.

"What happened?!"

"Are you hurt?!"

"Are the boys ok?"

"Ladies, please," Frank said, holding out a hand. "Just a moment. "Andi, could you look at the boys please."

Andromeda Tonks hurried forward as the men laid Charlie and Harry down on separate couches.

"Harry first, cousin. He was unconscious and a bit beaten up when we arrived. Charlie has a cut on his head but otherwise seems ok, he just fell asleep a few minutes ago," Sirius said heavily. He perched himself on the arm of the sofa, watching as Andi started running diagnostic spells on the young boy.

"What happened?" someone asked again.

Sirius glanced up and saw Amelia Bones standing alongside Alice. He wondered when she'd arrived. It was Amelia who asked the question.

"James and Lily are dead," Frank said heavily. He sat down.

Gasps rang out around the room and the three women started crying.

Frank continued, head hung low, the events beginning to sink in. "We arrived in Godric's Hollow and ran to the cottage. As we got to the gate, there was an explosion upstairs. We went in and found James on the staircase. He was already gone. It looked like he'd been tortured before he died." He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. Much like he done earlier with Sirius, Remus walked over and laid a hand on Frank's shoulder, trying to give him the strength he needed to continue telling the story. Remus knew that he himself would be unable to do so.

"We went upstairs. The nursery had been virtually destroyed. Lily was on the ground. She was gone too. At first we thought the two boys were dead. Harry was slumped against the crib, not moving, eyes closed, and Charlie was lying down inside, completely still. But then Charlie moved. Sirius checked Harry, and he was alive too but his pulse was weak. I called Polly. She took Lily and James back here. They're upstairs in the guest bedroom. We couldn't leave them there," Frank pleaded, looking up at his wife, emotion colouring his voice. Alice simply nodded. She was too upset for words, but she understood her husband perfectly.

Frank ended the story. "Remus got some of Harry's things. I managed to get some photos from the kitchen. Then we came back." He pulled a sheaf of pictures from his pocket as he finished, placing them on the coffee table in front of him. At Remus' questioning glance he added, "I got them while we were waiting for you to come downstairs. Just something for Harry and Charlie."

There was quiet for a few moments, the ladies trying to absorb everything they'd just heard.

"Do you know who did this? Which Death Eaters? It sounds like you didn't encounter any," Amelia asked hesitantly.

Remus spoke up for the first time since they got back. "From James' Patronus and what we saw when we got there, I think Voldemort himself attacked them. And quite possibly _only_ Voldemort."

Amelia looked incredibly grim at that answer. "If Voldemort himself was there, in fact even it was just his followers, then why are Harry and Charlie still alive? We know that they have no qualms about killing children."

It was Remus who answered her again. "We think something may have gone wrong during the attack," he began. "There was no Dark Mark above the cottage and at the back of the nursery there was a pile of what looked like Death Eater robes. None of us," he said, gesturing at himself, Frank and Sirius, "have ever seen an attack with either of those things before."

"Nor I," Amelia agreed. "So what are we saying? Voldemort showed up, broke through the wards, killed James and Lily, then tried to kill the two boys only to somehow fail? And what, he fled?"

"Maybe," Remus said, shrugging his shoulders. "But I honestly can't see him fleeing if he failed to kill them. I think he would've stayed till they were dead."

"Maybe that explosion injured him somehow," Sirius suggested, "And now he's off licking his wounds somewhere."

"Possibly, but we'll need to see a memory to know the truth," Frank said. "Maybe when Harry wakes up…"

Andi chose that moment to start talking. She had finished checking over the two boys while Remus and Amelia were speaking. "I don't want to further complicate matters, but the reason Harry is unconscious is because he's magically exhausted."

"What?!" everyone chorused back.

"But that means…accidental magic can't drain your core like that," Sirius said, aghast.

"No, it can't. Which means that whatever Harry did, it was at least partially intentional," Andi answered gravely. "I haven't seen this in such a young child before, but I suppose given the emotional stress he was under… You said you found Lily in the nursery?" At Sirius' nod, she continued. "Do you think he saw…" she tailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, although she could see that everyone had caught her meaning.

"Yeah, probably," Sirius said sadly, reaching down to hold Harry's hand. "She was right in front of where we found them."

"He was a bit beaten up as well," Andi added quietly. "A cracked rib, lots of bruising. I've healed all that now. Whatever happened, he was somehow involved."

"And what about Charlie?" asked Alice.

"It's a magical cut, I can tell you that," Andi responded, glancing over to the baby asleep on the couch. She had cleaned the blood from his forehead to reveal a clearly-defined, lightning-bolt shaped cut. "It's definitely not from being hit by debris or something like that. In fact, I think it might have been caused by Blood Magic."

"What makes you say that," Amelia asked grimly.

"I was raised a Black, even if I am no longer considered one. Taboo or not, we were taught about Blood Magic. I know enough to recognise its signature. The good news is that with proper care, the cut should heal up fine. It'll probably leave a faint scar, but all things considered it could be a lot worse."

"So what now?" Frank finally asked. All the adults in the room were watching the newly orphaned children as they slept. "I'd imagine that Harry will be asleep for a couple of days at least?" he asked, glancing at Andi.

"That'd be my guess," Andi agreed. "If you're desperate for that memory I could try giving him some energy potions to speed up his recovery, but I'd prefer to let him get at least a day's natural rest first. If we go with that plan, he'll probably be out of action for at least a week afterwards."

"I think we may have to go with that option," Sirius said. "We need to know what happened. But there's something else I have to do first. Tonight."

* * *

**AN. And that's a wrap on chapter 2! Let me know what you think (PS, I'm a sucker for reviews)!**


	3. The Aftermath

**Chapter 3: The Aftermath**

A silent tempus charm told Sirius it was now November 1st. A few minutes past midnight. He was sitting in a rigid wooden chair, ornately carved and yet uncomfortable enough that he kept having to shift himself around so his arse didn't go numb. Harry was asleep in his arms, the four-year-old looking a bit better than he had a few hours ago.

To his left, Amelia sat holding Charlie. He too was asleep. A few hours earlier, Andi sealed the cut and cast a numbing charm over the wound. The pain relief and the exhaustion of the day quickly sent the baby into slumber. The only evidence of his ordeal was a slightly raised, thin pink line in the shape of a lightning bolt. With time it would fade to a barely-noticeable scar.

The pair of adults were quiet, neither talking. The day's events weighed down on them. Emotions were in turmoil. Anguish at the loss of true friends. Sorrow for the orphaned boys they held. Confusion over what had happened. Fear of what was yet to come.

They both startled as the door behind them clicked open. A goblin came through, fine leather boots muffling the footsteps as he strode across the flagged-stone floor. He made his way around the ancient oak desk and carefully lowered himself into his rather plush seat.

"Mr. Black," the goblin began in his gravelly voice, "It seems your worst fear has come to pass."

As a general rule, Sirius didn't like goblins. In his mind, they were cruel, spiteful creatures. They didn't like wizards, not that Sirius could fault them for that – he didn't like most wizards either. However, he did think they could afford to be a bit politer to their customers. Or employ a modicum of tact. In fact, Sirius was pretty sure the only reason the goblins didn't kill every wizard they encountered was because the other sentient races of the Magical World had no interest in gold. And goblins liked gold more than they disliked wizards.

Nevertheless, Sirius was not an idiot. His grandfather made sure of that much before his mother disowned him. He knew how to act around them. Be firm but not disrespectful. Be polite but give no quarter. Bankers they may be, but Goblins were a warrior race. They respected strength.

Having said all that, Sharpfang was actually ok. For a goblin.

Usually.

Sirius inclined his head at the opening comment but made no other move.

Sharpfang continued. "As Potter account manager, I was notified by Gringotts magic earlier this evening that James Potter and Lily Potter both died. Which I assume is why you have come here tonight. To fulfil their last will and testament."

"Yes," Sirius said sadly. "Several hours ago, Voldemort attacked their home. He killed James and Lily." Sirius paused for a moment. The words were _painful_ to say out loud. "And we think he then tried to kill the two boys," he continued, gesturing to Harry and Charlie, "but for some reason he couldn't, or he was stopped. We're not entirely sure what happened."

"Interesting," Sharpfang growled, his fingers steepled. "Why would the Dark Lord fail to kill two children when he has killed so many before…" The goblin was lost in thought for a few moments. The Nation had not been without their own casualties in this war. Death Eaters had captured several of his brethren over the past few years. Their remains, when found, clearly showed they had been used for sport by the Dark Lord's followers.

"In any case, as Mr. and Mrs. Potter impressed upon me at our last meeting, as I am sure you recall, and as is stated in their will, we must resolve guardianship of the Potter children," Sharpfang stated. He rapped his knuckles against the desk, twice. A stack of parchment appeared.

As the goblin began to quickly leaf through the sheathes of documents, Sirius remembered the meetings he had just alluded to. Ever since Dumbledore had passed on the information that Voldemort was now targeting the Potters, James and Lily had planned what would happen if one or both of them died. Mostly regarding their children. The pair sat him down more than once to tell him what they wanted. At first, he wouldn't even listen to them. The thought of losing one of his best friends was gut-wrenching, but to even contemplate losing the two of them? That made him sick.

And the fact that they wanted him, prankster extraordinaire, Hogwarts' most immature graduate, to raise their children in their absence? No. No No No.

And yet here he was.

As Sharpfang had said, his worst fear had come to pass.

He wasn't ready to raise two kids. There was no way in hell he could ever do as good a job as James and Lily. He was not father material. Not yet anyway.

Sirius shook his head slightly, willing himself back to the present.

Sharpfang found the documents he wanted and set them to the side. Another two raps on the wood and the remainder disappeared. "Before we begin, Mr. Black," Sharpfang said, his black eyes flicking to Amelia for the first time since he entered the room, "Are you sure you want Ms. Bones present?"

At Amelia's raised eyebrow – she hadn't introduced herself – Sharpfang answered, "We know exactly who you are. Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for Magical Britain, Regent of House Bones until its heir, Susan Bones, comes of age." The goblin turned back to Sirius, ignoring Amelia's surprised expression.

She was indeed Head of the DMLE. She joined the aurors straight out of Hogwarts and was taken under the wing of the one-and-only Mad Eye Moody. Not only was she skilled in battle, her knack for strategy and political manoeuvring saw Amelia quickly rise through the ranks, despite her age. That, combined with multiple assassinations by the Death Eaters on Ministry personnel, meant Amelia was promoted to Deputy Head of the DMLE two years ago. The youngest ever.

Then, six months ago, one of the biggest shocks of the war. In the attack that killed Amelia's brother and his wife, the aurors captured one of the Death Eaters responsible. Barty Crouch Jr., son of Barty Crouch Sr, Head of the DMLE.

The outrage that followed forced the man to resign in disgrace. In the midst of her grief, Amelia was promoted to one of the most senior positions in the Ministry of Magic. Her day-to-day consisted mostly of being behind a desk, tracking attacks and casualties as the war continued. They were stuck in a rut. The Ministry had no clue where Voldemort was holed up. All they could was react to attacks as they happened and try to capture as many Death Eaters as possible. Their world was frozen in fear, and she honestly wasn't sure how to end this war.

Amelia's thoughts were interrupted by Sirius.

"Yes, I am," he stated firmly. "Ms. Bones has agreed to be a witness to this event. As Head of the DMLE, her presence amounts to the Ministry recognising that my guardianship is lawful. Hopefully this precaution won't be needed," Sirius added. "Only a fool would attempt to deny the last will of a Head of House."

"Indeed," Sharpfang agreed. "Let us proceed." He pushed a single piece of parchment across the desk towards Sirius, then drew a regal looking quill from a drawer. "You must sign here. If magic accepts your signature, you will become the legal and magical guardian of Harold James Potter and Charlus Anthony Potter. If not…"

Refusing to entertain that thought, Sirius shifted Harry onto his left side and picked up the black quill. A blood quill. He took a deep breath. And carefully signed his name in red.

Both the parchment and Sirius briefly shone a bright blue.

"Congratulations Mr. Black," Sharpfang said in his gravelly voice. Sirius thought he might have even smiled. Although it could have been a grimace. "You are now legally and magically responsible for these two children. The papers will be filed with the Ministry immediately. I do not anticipate any problems. The approval of Gringotts' magic is not to be questioned."

Sharpfang slid another three documents forward which Sirius dutifully put his name to. The back of his hand began to sting. The papers made him Regent of House Potter. This gave him a certain amount of access to the Potter estate, including properties and vaults, until Harry came of age and took up the Headship.

Once everything was signed, sealed and filed away, Sharpfang started talking again.

"As you may know, Mr. Black, James Potter was heir to both the Potter and Peverell Houses." Sirius nodded his head. James had mentioned it a couple of times, mostly in the context of his invisibility cloak. "What you might not know was that James' grandfather Charlus Potter, whom James and Lily's youngest child was named after, decreed that the next time a Potter had two sons that the Potter and Peverell lines would be split. That means that when they come of age, young Harry will become Head of House Potter while young Charlus will become Head of House Peverell. This is woven into Potter family magic and so cannot be undone."

Sirius absorbed this information. It was interesting and would certainly present some challenges in the future. In time, the two brothers would be able to wield some significant political power.

Sirius inclined his head towards the goblin behind the desk. "Thank you Sharpfang. Perhaps, we could meet again in a few days to discuss the finer details of what I need to know? It has been a long, hard day." He stood up slowly, Amelia following his lead. "May your gold ever flow and your sword stay sharp."

"May your vaults gleam and your enemies cower before you," Sharpfang replied.

Pleasantries over, Sirius turned heel and quickly strode from the room, suddenly desperate to get out. He needed a strong drink to forget the events of the night, if only for a few hours. They followed the goblin guards who led who led them back to the main foyer of Gringotts. Amelia led him out of the bank and onto the steps overlooking a dark and deserted Diagon Alley. With a look over her shoulder to check he was still with her, she disappeared with a crack. Sirius was right behind her.

* * *

Longbottom Manor was quiet. Mourning.

It was the evening of November 2nd. Alice looked around her sitting room. Arrayed on the couches were Frank, Remus and Amelia. Neville and Susan were in the kitchen with Polly, eating freshly baked cookies. They'd had to tell the two kids that Harry was sick and in bed. They'd seen Charlie earlier that day. The baby was fussing terribly. He missed his parents.

Alice's heart clenched. James and Lily were still upstairs. Herself, Frank and Remus had cleaned the bodies a few hours ago, although really only James had needed any attention. Lily had no injuries. They placed the couple under a stasis charm and left them together in the bedroom, where they would stay until funeral arrangements could be made.

Alice's gaze was drawn to the pensieve resting on the coffee table in front of her. The reason they were gathered.

Last night, Frank had suggested to Sirius that rather than waking Harry up and trying to get him to remember what happened, probably upsetting him, maybe someone skilled in mind arts could try entering his mind to extract the memory while he was asleep. Sirius had been reluctant at first. He felt it was intrusive and tantamount to violating Harry's mind if he wasn't aware of what was happening. It was Amelia who talked him round. She reasoned that given where they found Harry, he most likely saw his mother murdered in front of him and forcing him to relive that when he didn't have to – at least, not yet – would traumatise him.

Sirius eventually agreed with her. But then the question of who would retrieve the memory arose. The list of wizards and witches who were truly skilled Legilimens was a short one. Remus' tentative suggestion of "How about Dumbledore?" was shot down by a filthy look from Sirius.

"How can you say that Moony?" Sirius asked angrily. "You know how James and Lily felt. He's become so desperate to end this war he kept trying to use them as bait, knowing Voldemort was targeting them! And he never even told them _why_ they were being targeted or _how_ he knew! If I allow him into Harry's mind, they'll come back just to kill me!" He glared at his old friend, fists clenched in anger. Remus hung his head in shame. He knew everything Sirius just said was true, but the gratitude he'd felt towards Dumbledore as a child for letting him into Hogwarts had somehow developed into blind loyalty.

They were drawing blanks until Frank suggested Croaker.

"The Unspeakable?" Amelia asked. "How do you know him? And can you trust him?"

"We can definitely trust him. He's helped us out more than a few times over the years. Unspeakables aren't just researchers of arcane magic. They can fight as well as any auror. He's also an old family friend," Frank replied. 'Old family friend' was a slight bending of the truth. Unspeakable Croaker, also known as Algernon Longbottom, was Frank's uncle. But only Frank and Alice knew that.

"And you think he has the ability to look through Harry's memories without hurting him? Sirius asked.

"Yes, but we can ask him. He's an honest man. If he can't do it then he won't lie to us."

"Ok then. I suppose we can assume that he won't go blabbing to anyone about what he sees, either. If there's one thing you can say for sure about the Unspeakables, it's that they know how to keep a secret," Sirius remarked. "How do we contact him?"

Frank stood up. "Leave that to me." He left the room and made his way to his study. Scrawling a quick note, he called Polly and had her deliver it to Uncle Algie's house.

Footsteps on the stairs shook Alice out of her reverie. Algernon – or rather, Croaker – had arrived an hour ago. After a brief round of introductions he retreated upstairs, Sirius and Andi in tow. Not a peep since.

Now, as the three descended and stepped back into the living room, the tension ratcheted up.

As he stepped up to the pensieve, all eyes on him, Croaker withdrew a glass vial from within his robes. The cloaked man, face hidden in gloom, unstopped the small bottle and poured its contents into the stone basin.

The Unspeakable spoke. "Harry will be fine. He needs a good deal of rest and when he wakes, he'll need support. But for now, you must see this," he finished grimly. "Place a finger in here."

When every adult was in position, Croaker tapped his wand twice on the side of the basin and they were sucked into the memory.

* * *

Alice curled further into Frank's side, tears streaming down her face. In only ten minutes her world had been rocked to pieces.

Lily was not killed. She _sacrificed_ herself.

The Dark Lord had been there to murder Charlie. And _failed_.

Harry had intentionally used magic. _And…destroyed Voldemort?_

"Is he…dead?" Andi whispered, almost afraid. She, like most in the room, was clutching a glass of firewhiskey like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to this Earth.

"I…don't know," Amelia said tiredly, forcefully rubbing her temple. "There's a lot in that memory I don't understand."

"It seems to me that somehow, Lily Potter devised a ritual that protected her children from the killing curse," Croaker said slowly. He remained standing, hands hidden inside his thick robes. "Mrs. Tonks described Charlie's injury as a lightning-bolt cut with traces of blood-magic. If that is true, then I can only assume that his wound was caused by his mother's ritual marking him, rather than the Dark Lord's curse. The killing curse is not blood magic. In fact, there is an ancient Celtic protection rune that is much in the shape of a lightning bolt…" he tailed off, deep in thought.

"What about that…spirit…thing…that appeared from his body?" Sirius choked out. "I've never seen or heard of anything like that. I've witnessed a lot of people hit by the Avada Kedavra, and every single time, they just die. That's it. But that…was it just his magic?"

"I don't know," Croaker grimly replied. "It seemed…malignant…like it had intent. If not for Harry, whatever it was may have killed the two boys. Be assured, I will set my department to working on it."

The room was silent save for the occasional sips of firewhiskey.

Frank spoke in low voice. "It sounded as if…as if he was there for Charlie…not James and Lily."

"But why would he target a baby?" Remus asked, aghast. "Charlie's no threat to anyone. He's only 15 months old for god's sake!"

"We knew he was hunting the Potters…but we never found out why. Dumbledore would never say…" Sirius said shakily. "Maybe he thought Charlie would grow up and defeat him…who knows? He was twisted…a madman…if he got it into his head that someone could harm him…" The sentence was left hanging in the air.

"It seems he might have focused on the wrong son, at least in terms of who was an immediate threat," Croaker suggested. "The pure magical power Harry released should have killed him, and yet it didn't. It's no wonder he's still out of it. I don't know what that…mist was, so I don't know how I'd have stopped it I was there. Maybe a Patronus? Either way, what Harry did was pretty incredible, without even taking into account the fact that he's _four-years-old_. A blast of magic that, through Harry's intent, destroyed everything in that room except for Harry himself, his brother and Lily. No wand, no incantation, no training. Just his _will_. His desire to protect Charlie."

"So is that it? Did Harry end it? Did Lily?" Remus asked.

"Maybe…" Amelia said slowly. There was a tiny, tiny bit of hope etched into her features. "It would explain a few things…" She was lost in thought for a few moments, thinking hard. "The night of the attack, I sent some of my aurors to retrieve the cloak He left behind. They also placed the cottage under Notice-Me-Not and Disillusionment Charms to discourage visitors, at least until we knew what had happened. We tied the cloak to Voldemort. The residual magic matched his magical signature, as if we needed more proof."

She paused again and took a breath. "What's more interesting is that since Halloween night, there hasn't been a single attack. In fact, there hasn't been a single sighting of a Death Eater. Most of my department thinks they're gearing up for a massive assault, but given what we've just seen…"

"I'll do you one better Madam Bones," Croaker said. They couldn't see his face, but they if had been able to they would have seen the Head Unspeakable smiling. "We have several Death Eaters in our custody for…research purposes, shall we say. Two days ago, they all started shrieking. They were clutching their left forearms, screaming bloody murder that their arms were on fire. When we checked, we found their Dark Marks had faded to a mere outline. Before, they were jet-black and writhing on the skin, now they're simply an outline. Just like a muggle tattoo."

Deafening silence greeted his statement. Could they dare to hope for that much?

"What does that tell you?" Amelia asked shakily.

"We know the Mark was tied to Voldemort's magic. If they're gone, it stands to reason that his magic is gone. And if his magic is gone then we can assume-"

"That he's gone too!" Andi exclaimed, lip quivering.

"Yes," Croaker said simply.

* * *

Tom surveyed his pub. It was full, but quiet and sombre. A drink in every hand, shoulders were hunched and conversation was angry, fearful and tired. Starting on Halloween night, wizarding Britain had experienced three days free from attacks. It was the longest stretch of peace in several years. And it all came crashing down two days ago.

The Diggorys, a prominent and well-liked family, were attacked by the Lestranges. Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan. The Death Eaters broke into their home and tied up Amos and his wife, Celine. Then they executed their young son Cedric in front of them.

By the time the aurors arrived, Amos and Celine had been tortured into insanity. They no longer knew their own names.

Perhaps it was kinder, Tom thought darkly. Who wanted to remember their child being executed?

Then, last night, a special edition of the Prophet was issued, urging every witch and wizard to tune into an emergency broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless the following day at 3pm,

Tom checked his watch. Five minutes to go.

"Alright every'un," he said loudly. "Show's about t' start so listen up." As the Leaky Cauldron became nearly silent, he pointed his wand at the radio on the shelf behind him, turning up the volume so everyone could hear.

_Welcome one and all. The date is November 5__th__ and this is an emergency broadcast. I'm afraid I can't tell you what it's about as we here at Wizarding Wireless have not been told. The Ministry simply informed us that what you will hear in only a few moments is vitally important for the lives of everyone in Magical Britain. I can only assume it has something to with the despicable attack on the Diggory family. As most of you will know, the Death Eaters responsible for that attack were captured and are now in the custody of the aurors. We understand they have been subject to intense interrogation._

_Now, we go live to the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, where Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, will now begin._

A sense of anticipation filled the dingy bar, the patrons straining to hear every word.

_Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. For everyone listening at home, thank you for tuning in._

_On the night of October 31__st__, the dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort attacked a cottage in Godric's Hollow, the home of the Potters. James and Lily Potter were murdered._

Gasps of horror rang around the pub. Tom himself clenched his fists. The Potters were well known. They had been popular in their school days and most knew that they were very active in the fight against the Dark Lord. James was a highly skilled auror, and well-liked.

_Using magics unknown to us, Lily Potter devised a ritual which she performed moments before her death. Placing herself between the Dark Lord and her children, she sacrificed her life to save them. Her life gave power to the ritual, and when Voldemort turned his wand on her sons, his killing curse was reflected back upon him._

Not a breath. Not a sound. Not a single movement.

_Having witnessed a memory of the event itself and through the interrogation of the Death Eaters responsible for the attack on the Diggorys, the Ministry of Magic can confirm that the wizard known as Lord Voldemort has been destroyed._

Screaming. Such screaming the Leaky Cauldron had never heard. Absolute joy. Relief. Ecstasy.

Tom felt tears dripping down his cheeks. It was over. It was finally over.

The voice came back through the radio.

_The Ministry strongly advises all witches and wizards to remain cautious and vigilant. Many supporters of the Dark Lord are still at large. More information will be released over the coming days. I urge you all to watch your backs. The danger is not yet past us, but we are confident that we will soon be able to end this war._

_I hope you will all join me tonight in raising a glass to Lily Potter. The woman who saved us all._

_Thank you. Stay safe._

The broadcast ended and the cheering began anew. Strangers hugged, friends kissed, tears flowed freely. Tom quickly distributed glasses of firewhiskey to every patron. Once every person had one in hand, he hauled himself up on to the countertop and stood as tall as he could with his hunched back, glass raised high above his head.

"To Lily Potter!"

"TO LILY POTTER!" they thundered.


	4. Those Intervening Years

**AN. Wow! I'm delighted at the reaction the story is getting so far! Thank you so much to everyone who's read, favourited, followed and especially, reviewed! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer. You know. I know. Nothing is mine, etc, etc. And on we go.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Those Intervening Years**

He stood on the beach, toes curling in the warm sand. His board shorts moved gently with the breeze, torso tanned and bare. The young man drew his arm back then sharply flicked his wrist forward, sending the flat stone hurtling towards the lapping waves.

He stood unmoving, counting. Eleven skips. Not bad.

Harry raised his gaze to the horizon. The sun was low in the sky now. The reds and oranges of the setting star bled into the surrounding sea.

Although he stood still, Harry's thoughts were whirling. Remembering. Wondering. He was sixteen now. Life up to this point had been interesting. Different to most his age. For the most part, good.

Behind him lay the summer home. Set on a beach in the south of France, it was the perfect getaway. His grandfather, Fleamont Potter, bought it as a gift for his grandmother Euphemia after his business took off. A thank you for putting up with him while he spent more time with his work than his wife. Sleakeazy's Hair Potion – now a must-have product in every wizarding household – did wonders for the Potter vault. Harry had never met either of them. They fell to dragon pox the year James left school.

It was here that Sirius brought the two Potter brothers all those years ago, the day after James and Lily were buried. Harry didn't remember much from that time. He spent a long time grieving. Eventually the pain faded. It was still there, but Harry was able to talk about his parents now without flying into a rage or breaking down in sorrow.

Not unsurprisingly, Charlie didn't remember their parents at all. When he was old enough to understand they explained to him what happened. He had been incredibly upset, and really confused, but he accepted it a lot quicker than Harry had.

To Charlie, Sirius was his dad. Harry snorted remembering the first time his younger brother said it. Sirius disappeared for a day, leaving the two boys with a very confused Remus. As he explained to Harry when he was older, hearing James' child call him dad felt like he had somehow betrayed his late friend. Like he had stolen his child. When he eventually returned, Remus talked him down and told him, in no uncertain terms, to stop being such a baby.

Sirius somewhat reluctantly accepted the situation but made it crystal clear to Harry that he did not expect him to also call him dad. Harry never had, his memories of his father always stopped him.

But Sirius knew.

They lived in France for three years. After their initial move Remus quickly followed. To his surprise – and delight – he discovered that French attitudes to werewolves were much more lenient than those of the British, and the honorary uncle gained employment in the French Ministry.

Those years were tough. They were somewhat isolated, but it was necessary. Britain was desperate to idolise the Potters, mysterious survivors of Voldemort's last attack. That was the last thing Sirius wanted. He kept them away from the wizarding world, allowing them to grieve and grow up in their own time.

The one bright spark in those years was the Delacours.

Fleur crashed into Harry's world when he was five and she was seven – literally. Sirius had brought them to the local farmer's market and Harry found himself immersed in the colours and the food and the cacophony the chickens and ducks were creating. It was a lot to take in for the young boy and yet he found himself drawn to a stall selling fudge. The sweet smell of chocolate drew him in and wrapped him up. It was when he was on his tip-toes, straining his neck looking for Sirius, hoping he'd buy him some of the fudge, that another body crashed into him and sent both of them flying into a tangled heap.

Harry groaned at the impact but just as suddenly was swept to his feet as the silver-haired tornado that collided with him dragged him upwards.

He just stood there as the rather cute little girl jabbered away in French, all of it way beyond Harry's comprehension. Sirius had taught him a few phrases – like all Black's, he was fluent in it – but Harry wasn't sure how much they were going to help in this instance.

Eventually he stammered out "Je suis désolé" which stopped the girl in her tracks. She cocked her head at him, as if considering Harry for the first time.

"Je m'appelle Fleur," she said brightly. Phew. He knew that one.

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Harry."

The two became fast friends, even though each had only minimal knowledge of the other's language. Harry's French came on leaps and bounds with Fleur's help, and vice versa with her English. She was more than his best friend. She was his sister. Someone he could talk to about anything, who would always listen. She lit up those years for Harry. Always bubbly and willing to play, Fleur always picked him up if he was having one of his bad days.

Fleur's baby sister, Gabrielle, was the same age as Charlie. Those two quickly became fastened at the hip. Where one crawled, the other followed. Apolline, Fleur's mother, was only delighted that the Potters had come into their lives. She had always wanted a son and leapt at the opportunity to be a maternal figure to the two orphans. She loved them like they were her own and at first it made Harry feel quite guilty, much like Sirius had. Soon though, he came to long for her hugs. There was something about them that just made him feel so _loved_.

Eventually though, they returned to England. When Harry was seven, Sirius received an owl instructing him to present himself as soon as possible at Gringotts, London. To his surprise, Sirius was pronounced as Head of House Black. As it turned out, although Sirius had been thrown out of the family by his mother, his grandfather Arcturus Black had never officially removed him from the line of succession. Before his death, the old man named Sirius his heir, completely unimpressed with all the other options presented to him. It was this change in circumstance that brought them back to England. Sirius may not have wanted to come back, but the Black had a duty to his House.

For the first month or so while they were back, Harry, Charlie and Sirius stayed with Amelia and Susan in Bones Manor. Sirius had a lot of things that demanded his immediate attention, first and foremost of which was Grimmauld Place. Sirius had point blank refused to let Harry visit when he first asked about it, saying, "That dump of a house is far too dangerous for children Harry. There's no way I'm letting you into it until it's been cleared out."

The 'clearing out' took a full month. First Sirius, Amelia, Frank, Alice and Remus went in and removed every curse, jinx and dark artefact they could find. They even encountered two bogarts and a ghoul in the attic. After that, Polly – the Longbottom house-elf – gathered a group of her brethren with time on their hands and set them to cleaning up the Black household. The elves' reaction when they arrived was one of complete ad utter disgust at the state the home was in. There was many a muttered curse about the former Black elf, Kreacher, and how he was a disgrace.

For his part, Kreacher had, upon seeing Sirius when he entered the house for the first time, immediately picked up a kitchen knife and charged the Black Head, screaming obscenities, only to drop dead at their feet. House-elf magic would not allow him to harm his master. And so that problem was solved.

When all was said and done, Sirius bonded with a new elf by the name of Cheery who was absolutely delighted to have a family to help. Grimmauld Place had undergone a severe remodelling. No longer was it filthy, grim and dangerous. Now it was clean, bright and safe. Well, as safe as a wizarding home could be. Admittedly, a few walls had been removed due to some rather…persistent paintings that spouted abuse, but Sirius much preferred this new version of his childhood home.

With access to the Black family vault, Sirius made it his life's mission to spoil his charges. That's not to say they went without beforehand, but Sirius had always felt slightly uncomfortable spending the Potters' money, even if it was on the two boys. He had no such qualms about his own wealth.

Sirius invested in an expensive and very regal eagle owl. The owl – Godric (Sirius thought it was _hilarious_) – was specially trained long-distance flight. He was Sirius' gift to the boys so they could keep in touch with Fleur and Gabby.

Life was good for Harry and Charlie for those few years. They had a lot of fun, even if their social circle was fairly limited. Neville and Harry became thick as thieves, and Sirius proudly dubbed them the new generation of Marauders, so impressed was he at all the mischief they managed.

As he saw it, Harry's family only expanded in those years. Alice, Frank, Remus and Andi became his aunts and uncles, in addition to Apolline and Jacques Delacour. Neville was his brother in all but blood, and after Sirius and Amelia started dating, Harry gained another sister in Susan and another mother figure in Amelia.

The only black spot came when Harry was eight. He, Charlie and Sirius were in one of the many rooms in Grimmauld Place, looking through an old cabinet. There was all kinds of jewellery thrown into a drawer and Sirius was trying to find out what was worth keeping. Charlie had plucked an old tiara from the pile and placed it on his head, skipping around the room pretending to be a princess. Sirius was in stitches, howling with laughter at the boy's antics. Harry was shaking with giggles as he spied a chunky golden locket. He grabbed it and immediately his magic reacted, flaring out in force and forcing Harry to drop it. He cried out in pain and fear and was instantly bundled from the room by Sirius. His godfather sealed the room then took them down to the kitchen where Cheery made them hot chocolate and gave the two boys a calming draught. Both were shaken by what had happened.

Amelia arrived soon after and had a hushed conversation with Sirius. Then Andi came over and checked the two boys to make sure they were ok. The final visitor that afternoon was a man called Croaker. He wore a hood the whole time he was in the house and Sirius said he worked for the Ministry. Croaker asked Harry about what happened, then went upstairs and got the locket. After another hushed conversation between all the adults, Croaker left.

Later on, when Harry asked Sirius what happened, his godfather told him that the locket must have been a dark artefact that they missed when they were cleaning out the house. Harry wasn't sure if he fully believed Sirius, but he took his word for it and the incident slipped away from his mind.

After that, everything was fine.

Until Harry was ten.

The year Harry turned ten was an interesting one. The year his whole life was turned on its head. Again.

The first thing that happened was Sirius and Amelia married. It was one of Harry's happiest memories. They had a small celebration with just their close friends and family and all the adults got outrageously drunk, leaving the kids to do whatever they wanted. And what they wanted was to do magic. So, egging each other on, Harry and Neville 'borrowed' Sirius' and Frank's wands. Retreating with their prizes, the two began waving the wands with absolutely no idea what they were doing. To the delight of Susan and Charlie, the two boys managed to produce some sparks and even caused a few chairs to go flying across the room. Ok, yes, they may have accidentally set a tablecloth on fire and yes, maybe they caused Amelia's dress to turn from bridal white to canary yellow, but the adults were having too much fun to care. In fact, Sirius actually applauded their sneakiness.

While the new spouses went for a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, the three kids bunked with the Longbottoms. Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever had so much fun in only a fortnight. There was wizard's chess competitions, quidditch, Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans competitions, quidditch, who-can-eat-a-slice-of-treacle-tart-the-fastest competitions, and more quidditch. What more could a ten-year old ask for?

The second thing that happened that year changed the course of Harry's life. The day he learned the truth.

Sirius woke him on that fateful morning and said they had an appointment with someone in the Ministry. He refused to answer any of Harry's questions about why, other than saying it would be explained when they arrived. His godfather was unusually grim and reserved, something that set Harry on edge.

So they went to the Ministry of Magic, each of them glamoured and under notice-me-not charms. Amelia brought them straight in, avoiding the need to go to the visitor's desk. From there they went down into the bowels of the building. The DoM. Department of Mysteries itself. There they met Croaker, who blew Harry's world apart.

He explained everything. The spirit fragment that appeared the night his parents died. How they'd determined it probably happened because Voldemort tried to create a horcrux. How they believed that he'd failed, because Harry destroyed it, and that the Dark Lord truly died that night. That theory was backed up by the disappearing Dark Mark and former Death Eaters renouncing their Master, claiming Imperious.

But then there was the incident with the locket. And then they knew.

It was a horcrux. It was His horcrux. He wasn't gone.

And if there was one. Why couldn't there be more?

But Croaker wasn't done dropping bombshells. Since he realised Voldemort was not dead, the Unspeakable had dedicated almost all of his time to finding out why he targeted the Potters in the first place. Which led him to the discovery he made only a week ago. The Prophecy.

So he led Sirius and Harry to the Hall of Prophecy. As they walked, he explained that ancient magic recorded all prophecies made in Magical Britain. The prophecy was stored in a glass ball and on a metal plate below it were the inscribed initials of the seer, the person who received the prophecy and the subject of the prophecy. The caveat: only the subject of the prophecy could lift the crystal globe and hear what it had to say. Croaker knew where the prophecy was, but he had no idea what it said.

They finally stopped after walking past countless rows of shelves. Croaker pointed a finger.

"There it is," he stated gravely.

Harry's gaze fell upon a glowing glass ball. It looked like it was filled with swirling mist. He took a step closer and squinted at the dull engraving beneath it.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_T.M.R. & H.J.P._

Well. HJP were his initials all right.

Croaker cast silencing charms around the group and then indicated for Harry to proceed. With no small amount of trepidation,the Potter Heir stepped forward and grasped his destiny.

A harsh raspy voice shattered the quiet, tearing Harry's life apart word by terrible word.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches  
Born to those who have thrice defied him  
Born as the seventh month dies  
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal  
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not  
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives  
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_

And just like that, everything changed.

Although on first hearing the prophecy seemed to be talking about Charlie, Croaker was immovable. The magic of the Hall of Prophecy did not lie. It was Harry's initials that were engraved. It was Harry who picked it up. It was Harry who was Chosen.

The following days saw arguments like Harry had never seen before. Sirius refused to accept what he had heard, refused to put this on Harry's shoulders. He argued that the prophecy didn't even make sense. Harry was born in May. It was Charlie who had been born on July 31st. It was Charlie who had a scar from the killing curse.

Croaker never budged in his stance. As he repeated many times, prophecy should not always be taken literally. 'Born as the seventh month dies' could mean that the Harry that was a danger to Voldemort was born the instant that Charlie was, Croaker argued. Harry's willingness to protect his brother had already destroyed one soul fragment. That in itself could be the 'power the Dark Lord knows not'. Was there anything that Voldemort would lay his life on the line for?

To Sirius' point about Charlie's scar, the Unspeakable shot right back that it wasn't the Avada Kedavra that marked the boy, it was Lily Potter's own protection ritual.

Why was Voldemort targeting Charlie? Maybe he only heard part of the prophecy, was the answer. Maybe he just took it literally.

They argued back and forth until Sirius eventually conceded. And with that concession began the third major event of Harry's tenth year.

Training. Preparation. Sirius would damn himself to all the hells that existed if he let Harry die. No. He would make sure Harry had all the training he could possibly get.

Harry was never the same after that day in the Department of Mysteries. He aged in there. He became a much more serious boy. He remembered Voldemort. That night was ingrained into his psyche.

Aged ten, Harry Potter vowed to himself that he would fulfil the prophecy. He would not allow the man who murdered his parent and countless others to enjoy another reign of terror. Not when he had the power to stop it. And apparently he did.

He had a duty. To his friends. To his parents. To his family. But mostly to Charlie. He would not die and leave his brother alone in the world. He would not.

And so Harry threw himself into training. He never complained. He never asked for a break. He pushed himself to his limits and beyond.

Physical training, magical training, political training.

At the end of the war, the admission age for Hogwarts was increased to twelve. The school felt they ought to give those children who had known nothing but war at least one year of normalcy. The new age ended up staying in place and when the time came, Hogwarts' letters winged their way towards each of Harry, Susan and Neville. Only two accepted.

Harry kept training.

As the years went by, strange things happened at the famed school. The first year Neville and Susan attended, a troll broke in and rampaged through the building. Several months later the defence professor disappeared without a trace.

The following year several students were petrified. It was rumoured the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and the monster within set upon the school. It all came to an end when a student was killed. There were whispers however, that she took her own life.

Their third year had been quiet up until the day after their summer exams ended. Two students started firing curses at each other over who knows what and a stray spell hit someone's pet rat. Which promptly transformed into Peter Pettigrew. Amidst the chaos his appearance caused the traitor somehow escaped.

Sirius was enraged when he found out and Amelia had to stun him so he wouldn't go charging off to Hogwarts himself. Pettigrew's appearance and escape stayed in the headlines for weeks, only falling into second place as the Quidditch World Cup approached.

The events of the world cup caused Harry to put his training to use for the first time. He, Charlie and Sirius were invited by the Delacours into one of the premium boxes. Jacques – newly elected as French Minster for Magic – had a great time conversing with them about all things quidditch. The three were glamoured and speaking in fluent French, determined to keep their identities hidden. Harry – an avid quidditch fan – was mesmerised by the display before them. An exhibition of skill in aerial acrobatics. Ireland's chasers did not fail their favourites tag. Harry wouldn't have been surprised to find out they had some sort of telepathic connection between them, that's how good they were. And yet it was Krum who had the last word. He won the last battle, but the Irish won the war.

As you'd expect, the celebrations were raucous. Their group stayed in the tent for the most part, reliving the match they'd just witnessed. Harry and Jacques were in the midst of a heated discussion on seeker tactics when Sirius suddenly held a hand up and they fell quiet. He seemed to be listening intently.

"Something's happening," he said, just as Jacque's auror guard burst through the tent flaps. In no uncertain terms the aurors ordered the Delacours to come with them. The camping grounds were under attack and they had to keep the Minister and his family safe. At Sirius' request, Charlie went with them.

Harry and his godfather pushed their way through the screaming crowds towards the source of the trouble, wands out. They stormed past a several flaming tents only to stumble upon a scene of violence.

Bodies were strewn across the open ground, some of them children. The people responsible stood in the centre.

Death Eaters.

They were levitating a group of muggles above their heads, their bodies twitching in pain and mouths open in silent screams. The Cruciatus.

A few feet away two of the masked wizards advanced on a pair of young girls, one around Harry's age and the other younger. The elder girl clutched her sister close but continued to back away in fear.

Harry and Sirius spared no time for words and wasted no effort on being gentle. They fought to incapacitate. With extreme prejudice.

Harry sent a pair of blasting curses at the Death Eaters approaching the girls. The curses struck them in the back and sent the two flying forward, bones snapping from the strength of his magic. Summoning and then snapping their wands, Harry bound each of them tighter then he probably should have with a sharp "Incarcerous". He turned to the blonde sisters and shouted at them to run, pointing in the direction he came from only moments before. They heeded his words.

Adrenalin pumping, Harry turned back towards his godfather only to find himself under attack. Three of the Death Eaters had decided he was an easier target than Sirius. It was all Harry could do to keep himself from being blasted apart. He dodged, ducked, rolled and threw up shields for all he was worth. He managed to get a few shots of his own in and one struck true, a nasty hex from the Black library that caused skin to freeze until it cracked off. The screams said enough. One down, two to go.

Even as he thought those words, a piercing hex got through his guard and caught his shoulder. It bloody hurt. He gritted his teeth. Another exchange of spellfire. He was tagged again. This time his leg. Some kind of burning spell. Moving around suddenly became very difficult.

Harry's magic flared as his temper spiked. An overpowered slashing curse nearly took the arm off another of his attackers. He too was taken out of the fight. The final Death Eater was knocked off his feet by a spell fired at him from the side. Frank sprinted into the clearing followed by some of his fellow aurors. The remaining attackers disapparated as soon as they saw they were outnumbered, abandoning their downed colleagues. A glance from Sirius and Harry left as well, hand clutched around his emergency portkey.

The attack at the world cup threw Magical Britain into disarray. The Dark Mark was seen in the sky again for the first time in eleven years. The Ministry, already under fire for the poor security, was forced to postpone the Tri-Wizard Tournament because of all the fear and uncertainty. The whole country was uneasy.

September 1st came and with it, Charlie headed off to Hogwarts. Harry had Neville under strict orders to protect his brother. He knew his friend would not fail him.

Harry and Charlie said their goodbyes in Grimmauld Place. It was more emotional than either would ever likely admit. Harry knew Charlie would be more than capable of holding his own in school. Sirius got Charlie his wand when he was ten and the boy was handy with it. He seemed to have inherited their mother's aptitude for charms. He was sharp as a razor and yet still prone to the odd reckless act. Harry was sure he was going to be a Gryffindor.

Charlie, who knew what Harry was planning to do, did his best to reassure his big brother that he was doing the right thing and that he didn't need to worry about Charlie.

Sirius, Amelia, Susan and Charlie eventually left Grimmauld Place, headed for Kings Cross station. As soon as they were out the door Harry withdrew a letter from his pocket and placed it on the kitchen table. The fight with the Death Eaters told him he wasn't yet good enough. Time was running out.

He shouldered his pack, took a deep breath and stepped into the floo.

And so began his time with Unspeakable Croaker.

It was not the same Harry Potter who stepped back into Grimmauld Place nine months later. It was not the same Harry Potter who stood there like a man while he took his verbal punishment from Sirius and a somewhat physical one from Amelia. He let them rage at him. They had every right to. Croaker's main condition on agreeing to train Harry had been that he not contact anyone. Harry hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the Unspeakables since last September. His letter had explained what he was doing and why, but he knew that it would in no way absolve him of his act.

But it was the same Harry Potter who gratefully accepted crushing hugs from his parental figures after they finished their tirade. It was the same Harry Potter who set delighted eyes on a grinning Susan and Charlie. And it was definitely the same Harry Potter who cried with joy and guilt when he found out he had new twin siblings, only two-months old. Orion and Zoe.

Amelia found out she was pregnant soon after Harry left but with no way to contact him except Croaker, who refused to do so, there was no way to tell him.

And that brought Harry back to the beach, staring at the sunset before him. The unusual family had retreated to the house in the south of France for the summer, savouring every moment together. Amelia took an extended leave, as did Sirius, who had rejoined the aurors several years ago. Harry revelled being around everyone again, a far cry from what the previous nine months had been.

As Harry had predicted, Charlie was sorted into Gryffindor. He listened attentively as his younger brother recounted his exploits of the past year. Neville had indeed looked out for him in the Lion's Den, as Harry knew he would.

Those few months of summer were lazily spent, lounging on the beach and enjoying the peace.

As he stood in the dying light, Harry savoured the last few moments of it. Tomorrow, everything was going to change. Tomorrow, he was going to Hogwarts.

And he was gonna make some waves.


	5. Harry's in Hogwarts

**AN. Thanks to everyone who's reading! Just to clarify something mentioned in a review: Harry was born the same year as canon, but in May rather than July. The prophecy was delivered later than in canon, as such Voldemort never targeted the Potters when Harry was a baby so he never 'died'. Charlie was born several years later on July 31****st**** and the prophecy relates to his birth. The amount of time between the war ending and Harry's generation is less than in canon, otherwise everything else is roughly the same. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or anything related to it.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Harry's in Hogwarts**

As the scarlet steam engine chugged into Hogsmeade station, the members of one particular cabin almost quivered with anticipation. Harry, who had been lost in thought for the duration of the journey, shook himself out of his stupor. He would soon be making his first public appearance since his parents' funeral, almost twelve years previously. He knew that come tomorrow morning, the post owls would be leaving Hogwarts in droves, reporting on the reappearance of the Potter Heir. This first impression was vital to their future.

The returning Hogwarts students, Neville and Susan, were very much looking forward to what was about to happen. The Potters had essentially disappeared after Voldemort's fall. It was known they were in Sirius' care but they had never been seen. Charlie's appearance last year had thrown the school for a loop. The young boy took to Hogwarts like a fish to water. He was very much Lily Potter's son with his red hair and affinity for charms. Unlike Harry, Charlie had inherited their father's hazel eyes. Top of his year, Charlie was the perfect student. Throughout that first year, he stayed true to his brother and refused to be drawn when pressed on Harry's location, only increasing the mystery surrounding the elder Potter.

Neville and Susan had already agreed that Harry's arrival was probably going to short-circuit the collective brains of the students. Hogwarts was about to change.

The train came to a jolting stop and suddenly the noise level increased dramatically, as cabin doors were thrown open and hundreds of students made their way to the platform. Harry, unsure of where to go, followed Neville and Susan as they cut a path through the milling crowd, prefect badges glinting under the lamplight. Harry ignored the whispers as he went. They'd find out soon enough.

Neville commandeered one of the first carriages in the line and opened the door, dramatically bowing to Susan and gesturing her ahead of him. She giggled as she ascended the few steps. Harry rolled his eyes at their antics. The pair had been flirting back and forth for at least two years now. Harry wondered when one of them would pluck up the courage and make the first move.

He stayed at the front of the carriage for another few moments, petting the jet-black thestral harnessed to the contraption. The skeletal animal leaned into his touch, so Harry gave it another few scratches before he too climbed the short stairs and joined his friends.

As he sat down the door closed by itself and the carriage rumbled off on its journey towards the great castle.

"It's not too late you know," Neville said suddenly, grinning at him. "There's still time to go back and join the firsties in the boats. You're probably too big to share though."

"I always knew you were a comedian," Harry responded dryly. "Thanks for the offer but I think I prefer the option where I don't fall into the Black Lake."

"Suit yourself," Neville shrugged cheekily at him.

"Are you ready for this Harry?" Susan asked seriously. "You're about to become the focus of everyone's attention. And they won't all like you."

"I don't need them all to like me. I need them to respect me," Harry said firmly.

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to be a problem," Neville snorted. At Harry's raised eyebrow he continued. "Ever since you finished…whatever you were doing with Croaker…you've been…different." Neville waved a hand around as if he were trying to pluck words from the air. "More confident. More powerful. Like you could easily take on whoever's around you and beat them. And you know it."

"And," Susan piped up, "You look damn good, Harry. And you know that as well."

Harry fought to hide a blush at the compliments while Neville pouted at Susan's last words. She swatted the Longbottom on the shoulder and finished her thought. "You'd draw their attention even without McGonagall calling out your name."

"Speaking of that," Harry said, "Do you know where I'm to meet her? She told Sirius I didn't have to walk through the hall with the firsties."

"No, but she should be in the entrance hall when we arrive. I'll introduce you," Neville offered.

Harry just smiled in response.

Their ride came to a smooth stop and all three hopped out, giving Harry his first ever view of the famed castle. Words did not do it justice.

Huge, imposing and practically breathing magic, the ancient stone walls stood testament to the vision of its' founders.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was impressive.

They hurried to get inside and away from the cold rain which had just started to fall. As they crossed the threshold Harry felt a warmth seep through him and his magic tingled in response.

_Must be the wards,_ he thought to himself, giving an internal shrug.

With Neville to his right and Susan to his left, the three strode confidently across the flagged-stone entranceway towards a witch who could only be the famous Transfiguration professor.

As the blood son of one Marauder, and the adopted son of another, Harry knew there was only one thing he could do as he approached the Deputy Headmistress.

As soon as the trio came to a halt before the stern woman, Harry swept himself into a low bow and gently grasped the fingers of her left hand. Bringing them gently towards him, he dropped a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand before releasing it and slowly rising back to his full height.

"Professor McGonagall, I can't say how glad I am to finally meet you. I've heard only good things," Harry said with a cheeky grin. "I'm Harry. I'm joining Hogwarts today." Although he kept his eyes locked on those of the Professor, he could all but hear Neville's jaw fall open with a clang.

Harry could've sworn he saw Professor McGonagall's eye twitch. She remained remarkably still as she eyeballed him, her gaze raised slightly to meet that of the strapping sixteen-year-old before her.

"Magic help me," she finally sighed. "James Potter and Sirius Black in one person. I'm doomed." And then Minerva McGonagall, battle-axe though she may be, let out a small smile. "Although I can see Lily in you too. Maybe she will temper the influence of those bloody Marauders."

Harry simply smiled back at her. Sirius always spoke fondly of Professor McGonagall, despite the number of detentions she had put him in. The Gryffindor Head had looked after the disavowed Black in those early years. Strict but fair, the woman truly represented the house of Lions. She had a big heart and very sharp claws.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. I am glad you finally accepted our invitation," she said rather dryly.

"So am I, Professor," Harry replied warmly. "I hope all the stories I've heard from these two and Charlie live up to the real thing," he said, gesturing at Neville and Susan.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," McGonagall agreed. "Now, the Headmaster has agreed that you do not have to be paraded through the Great Hall with our new first years, but you will be sorted before the students, as is tradition." Harry inclined his head at the statement. "Instead, if you will wait in an ante-chamber, I will call you when the time comes."

"Very well Professor, thank you. I'd best get going," Harry said while glancing around. Students were arriving thick and fast. "But I hope we will get to know each other during my time in Hogwarts."

The Professor considered him for a moment before offering a nod. "I would like that as well, Mr. Potter. Not only were your parents two of my best students, they were my friends. Now, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Bones," she said briskly, "If you would please escort Mr. Potter to the ante-chamber. Then you may find yourselves a seat for the show that will no doubt begin when Mr. Potter makes his entrance." With that, the stern woman swept off towards the great wooden doors, a small smirk on her face.

A _smirk_. From _McGonagall_.

Harry turned towards Susan. Then towards Neville. And then he laughed.

"This is gonna be fun!"

* * *

Her eyes carefully roved the Great Hall, seeking, evaluating, dismissing. Her fifth year at Hogwarts. OWL year.

She already had her place in this school. A show of force here, a careful bit of manoeuvring there and voila. Top of the food chain. Most of this school wouldn't know sly if it bit them.

And yet she was uneasy, even if it never showed on her face. Every year something had happened. The troll, Slytherin's Monster, a disguised Death Eater.

The World Cup.

She skilfully suppressed a familiar shudder. That memory. The worst few minutes of her life.

She had been so sure. So sure she and her sister were about to suffer the worst way a woman could. And then be killed.

So sure.

And then in almost an instant she had been so sure of the opposite. She would live. Astoria would live. They would _survive_.

In the midst of her fear, her _terror_, he appeared. Blasting away the predators before screaming at them to run. And run they did. Away. Away through the campsite towards the woods. Hours later the sisters reunited with their parents. It wasn't until she was back home that she allowed her tears to fall.

Days later the aurors returned her wand. Her shame at that stayed with her. Disarmed before she even got a spell off in defence, if it hadn't been for the stranger…

Loud applause broke her from her brief reverie as the final first year was sorted into Hufflepuff. She schooled her thoughts. There was no need to school her face. The Ice Queen had appeared as soon as she stepped into Kings Cross.

"I'm starving," Tracey grumbled to her left. "Dumbledore better make this quick."

Tracey Davis, her best friend. One of only two, in fact. She was friendly with other students, but they weren't _friends_. Being a Slytherin narrowed down the pool to only her own house, and most in her house were unpleasant.

Her gaze was drawn to the staff table as the Headmaster rose to his feet. A hush descended on the students.

"Before we tuck into what I am sure will be a splendid feast," the old wizard began, "We have one final sorting to witness."

The hall was silent now. This was unexpected.

Dumbledore continued. "This student will be joining our fifth year. I hope his future classmates will endeavour to not only get to know him, but to ensure he experiences our school to the best of its ability. Minerva, if you would."

Professor McGonagall, who had remained standing by the three-legged stool and was holding the Sorting Hat in one hand, flicked her wand at a door to the side of the staff table. It swung open silently. The professor's voice rang clearly through the cavernous, soundless room, slicing through the sudden anticipation.

"Harry Potter!"

The sudden swell of whispers was cut-off at the knees almost as soon as soon as it began, the appearance of the boy in question creating a vacuum where noise was impossible.

Boy was the wrong word though.

His steady gait oozed power, smooth steps betraying the confidence of someone physically primed and ready to strike at a moment's notice. And if the walk didn't grab her attention, the six feet of tall, dark and handsome certainly did.

She was too far away to see his face properly, but she would content herself for now with admiring from afar. One thing was for sure, Harry Potter had just thrown a rather large wrench into the politics of Hogwarts. The Game had changed. This year was going to be interesting.

As he approached the now comically small stool, the new student raised his wand and transfigured it into a plush armchair, which he promptly sat down in. In front of the transfiguration professor. Without uttering a single word.

Despite herself, Daphne Greengrass could not prevent an eyebrow reaching upwards at the impressive and ballsy display of magic.

Like the rest of her fellow students, she watched with rapt attention as McGonagall simply shook her head at the boy's antics before placing the Sorting Hat on his crown. There was a brief shimmer around him as McGonagall released the ancient Hogwarts heirloom. Yet another unheard-of event.

The tension in the Great Hall was palpable. Harry Potter was an unknown quantity. His brother Charlie had caused a storm last year, but nothing like this. This Potter was all-but fully grown, clearly powerful and good-looking to boot. A major coup for whichever house he joined.

They were left waiting for several minutes before the Hat finally roared out, "RAVENCLAW!"

Daphne's other eyebrow joined its compatriot in its escape towards her hairline. She would have bet quite a few galleons on Potter joining his brother in Gryffindor. It only served to prove that she knew nothing about him.

The new Ravenclaw returned the Sorting Hat to the professor and made his way down to his new dormmates to raucous applause and cheering. A nonchalant flick of his wand as he went and the armchair returned to being a humble stool.

Potter started walking the length of the hall as the buzz of conversation rose once more, looking for a seat at the Ravenclaw benches. For the first time that evening Daphne got a good look at his face. And she almost gasped.

Her body stiffened involuntarily, heartbeat pounding a staccato rhythm at the shock of it. It was him. The stranger. He looked so different from only a year ago, except for his eyes. The eyes she could never forget.

Her gaze remained locked on him as he eventually sat down between Granger and Goldstein, the Ravenclaw fifth year prefects. He fit right in, chatting with his new housemates with ease. Her eyes never left his face as Dumbledore stood once more.

"Now! Let the feast begin!" He punctuated his last word with a clap and all around the hall, food sprung into existence. Daphne couldn't miss the look of wonder on Potter's face at the impressive sight.

Under the table she felt a leg bump against hers, so she reluctantly turned her face towards her best friend. Met with Tracey's worried face, Daphne answered with a minute shake of the head. Later.

In Malfoy's Slytherin, questions like, "Are you ok?" were a dangerous thing. Especially for the girls. Those conversations were held behind closed doors and privacy wards, not out in the open. Not at the Slytherin table.

Turning back to her food, Daphne caught Blaise's eye, the Italian boy also noticing her reaction. He was more composed than Tracey though. Less emotional. He didn't pry or ask needless questions. He was her other best friend.

The three washed down their dinner with meaningless small talk, eager to leave and discuss the events of the evening freely. There were two types of Slytherins in Hogwarts these days – the Malfoy kind (loud, opinionated, prone to violence – wannabe Death Eaters) and everyone else (cunning, quiet, resourceful – true Slytherins). Unfortunately, Malfoy attracted the most violent and abusive characters to him. To go against them, openly at least, was unwise and often ended with a trip to the hospital wing. To show weakness was simply an invitation to be hurt.

Since the moment she stepped through these hallowed doors in her first year, Daphne had cultivated a persona of coolness towards others. Other than Tracey and Blaise, she kept her distance from people. That wasn't particularly hard anyway. The other houses had no real interest in being friends with a Slytherin. But from the start of last year, fourth year, the coolness became ice. The World Cup shook her to her core. That, combined with Astoria's entrance to the school, persuaded Daphne to change her ways. The newly born Ice Queen sent multiple morons to the hospital screaming in pain in the first weeks of term. The only way to get through to some of the gorillas in her house was with a show of force. Frozen family jewels did the trick. For everyone else, well, Daphne could play politics with the best of them.

She, Tracey and Astoria were now untouchable in the dungeons.

Finally, the food faded away to leave the golden plates sparkling clean. Daphne was feeling antsy now but she repressed the urge to fidget.

Once again the ancient Headmaster stood from his seat, a hush falling over the sleepy and satiated students.

"I have just a few announcements before we all head off to bed," Dumbledore began, his twinkling eyes reaching even those at the back of the hall. "First, as many of you may have guessed, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I would invite you all to join me in welcoming Professor Moody to the school." Dumbledore gestured towards the grizzled man at the end of the staff table before beginning a round of applause. Most students quickly followed, the reputation of their new professor preceding him. Mad-Eye Moody, the deadliest and most successful auror in the War. The man seemed to take no notice of Dumbledore's introduction, or maybe he just didn't care. His magical eye watched those before him even as his real one focused on his goblet.

As the clapping died down the headmaster spoke again. "As always, the forbidden forest is off limits to all students, unless accompanied by a professor. Mr. Filch has informed me that the list of banned items is now longer than ever. That list can be found on the noticeboard outside his office for any who wish to peruse its contents."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, his countenance becoming slightly more serious. "As many of you know, last year Hogwarts was to play host to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Due to events that took place at the World Cup, it was decided to cancel it because of security concerns. However," he said slowly, wise eyes taking in the gazes of the expectant students before him, "After months of renegotiation, it is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Tri-Wizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

He paused as the hall erupted into chattering, allowing the students to absorb the news that would change their year, possibly their lives. After several moments he raised his hands and they fell back into quiet excitement. "A brief explanation for those who are not familiar with the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It is a legendary competition between the three greatest magical schools of Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. An impartial selector chooses a champion from each school, those deemed most worthy and capable. Those students compete in three tasks, with points awarded for each performance. At the end, the student with the most points wins eternal glory and one thousand galleons."

Dumbledore's tone changed slightly, from caring and capable headmaster to the most respected wizard in Britain. "This tournament is dangerous, even deadly. For that reason, only those in their fifth year or above may enter their names for consideration." He continued on, simply raising his voice over the angry muttering now emanating from many of the students. "I give you this warning: should you willingly enter your name and are selected, you _must_ compete. You will have willingly entered a binding magical contract; to not fulfil its terms is to forfeit your own magic."

Deafening silence greeted that declaration. Losing one's magic was…incomprehensible.

"Now, on a slightly cheerier note, the visiting delegations from each school will arrive on October 30th, with the champions' selection on Halloween night," Dumbledore smiled. "They will be staying with us for the duration of the year. As such, Hogwarts will be their home while they are here. I hope you all will give your best efforts to welcome our international visitors, and maybe even make some new friends. Now! Chop, chop! Off the bed!"

The hall was filled with the sounds of benches scraping back against the floor and students excitedly talking about the Tri-Wizard. Between that and Potter's sorting, Daphne doubted any in the castle would be asleep any time soon.

For her part, she quickly exited the Great Hall and headed down towards the dungeons, Tracey and Blaise hot on her heels, eager to escape before the first years cramped up the hallways. Muttering the password she overheard from Malfoy, a stretch of bare stone wall slid open to reveal a dark passageway that led to the common room. None of them spared a glance at the common area, instead going towards the fifth-year corridor. Daphne strode forward to the familiar door, beyond which lay the room she and Tracey had shared since first year. Pushing it open, the three entered and remained silent as they performed all the detection charms they knew, a habit learned through experience. When all was clear, the door locked and privacy charms put in place, Tracey rounded on Daphne.

"What was that?! What happened?" she demanded, worry colouring her voice. Blaise stood against the door, arms folded across his chest, watching their interaction. There was no point asking the same thing again.

Daphne inhaled deeply to calm her nerves and sat heavily on the bed, letting her mask fall. She thought she'd locked all these feelings away, but he'd gone and stirred them up again.

"You remember what happened at the World Cup last year? To me and Astoria?" she asked quietly, not meeting their eyes.

"Yes, of course," Tracey answered soothingly. She came over and sat beside her best friend. "But Daph, that was over a year ago. You're fine now, both of you. You got away."

"We didn't _get away_," Daphne said bitterly, "We were rescued. I was completely helpless."

"Ok, but why are you bringing this up now?" Tracey asked, confused.

"Because no one knew who it was!" she exclaimed. "Black said he never met the boy before and would never admit anything else about it! But now…" She wrung her hands, agitated. Daphne raised her head to look at Tracey, her grey eyes in turmoil.

"He doesn't look the same now," she almost whispered. "He must have been wearing a glamour. But his eyes. They're the same. I've never them before or since, until tonight," she finished quietly.

"Daph, what are you talking about?" Tracey asked, exasperated. Blaise had guessed though. He pushed himself away from the door and came towards the two girls.

"It was him?" the Italian asked.

Tracey just looked between the two, completely lost.

"Yes," Daphne admitted softly. "It was him. Potter. Harry Potter saved our lives."

* * *

Harry stood in the small room Susan and Neville brought him to a little while ago. There were a few interesting portraits but other than that, he couldn't figure out what function the room had. The chatter in the Great Hall was muted by the thick wooden door that separated him from the rest of Hogwarts' residents.

The low buzz beyond finally faded. As he turned to face the entrance to the hall, the door swung open and his name rang through the air, tinted with the Scottish brogue of the Deputy Headmistress.

He heard the whispers rise in volume as the last syllable was uttered. Harry steeled himself. This was it. The first step. The first impression. He needed to make it count.

Harry strode from the room, head high and looking straight towards Professor McGonagall. Silence descended once more and he could feel every eyeball in the room focused on him. He fixed his gaze on the object just beyond McGonagall. A very small stool.

Yeah, no. Time to impress.

A swish of the wand later and a replica of his favourite armchair in the Delacours' house appeared before the school. Point to Harry. He sat down and watched with no small amount of mirth as McGonagall seemed to suppress another eye twitch at his behaviour, instead settling for a shake of the head as she placed the famed Sorting Hat on him.

Just like earlier when he stepped into Hogwarts for the first time, Harry felt a warmth and his magic tingled as the Hat was placed on his head.

_Well, well, well. What do we have here? The Heir of Slytherin AND the Heir of Gryffindor. My my, what an interesting day._

The gears in Harry's head slowed, then slowed some more, then came to a grinding, screeching halt he registered what the Hat just said.

_Umm. What?_

_You heard me child._

_I don't…what?_

_It was not that complicated a statement, _the Hat said dryly.

_But…how can I be an Heir of both? How have I never been told this?_

_Probably because no one knew. The succession of the Founders' Heirs is not by blood, but by magic. The Founders never had children. Each deemed certain traits or acts worthy of themselves. Should a person meet their standards, magic would test them and deem if they were worthy. You have been judged Harry Potter. And you have not been found wanting._

_Could you maybe…explain…a little bit?_

Harry could have sworn the Hat sighed at him.

_You defeated the former Heir of Slytherin, Tom Marvolo Riddle, in combat. Which by Salazar's standards makes you his new Heir. The same event named you Godric's Heir. You risked your life to save your brother, defeating evil to do so. Textbook Gryffindor behaviour._

_Uhhh…_

_Very intelligent. We'll have to train you up a bit._

_Oi! I thought I was going to be sorted and you drop this on me!_

_Yes, well you had to know. There will time to talk about this later. There are things you need to know. There are responsibilities that now fall on your shoulders._

_How are we going to talk later? Where are you kept when you're not sorting students?_

_The Headmaster's office. Of course, one cannot simply walk into the Headmaster's Office, but there is an easier way. Make sure you are alone then call the Head House Elf of Hogwarts to you and explain what you want. They should listen to you. Now, where to sort you…_

Harry's mind was a bit frazzled after everything he'd just heard, but it slipped back into normal working order at the Hat's last comment.

_You can see everything in my mind, right? Despite my Occlumency?_

_Yes._

_So then you know where I'd like to be sorted._

_Yes, but I'd like to hear your reasons why._

Harry paused for a moment to compose his thoughts.

_There's another war coming, and I'm going to be at the centre of it. Our society cannot survive another war like last time. We were too divided, divisions bred from schoolyard rivalries and hatreds. If I am to make allies I need to be in a neutral house. If I'm in Gryffindor then Slytherin won't come near me, if I'm in Slytherin then the rest of the school won't come near me. Hufflepuffs don't get enough respect from the other houses, which leaves Ravenclaw. I want to change our world, and it starts here._

_Your reasoning is sound and sadly shows how Hogwarts has fallen. I look forward to seeing what you will do as the Heir. You are sure of your choice?_

Harry sent a mental nod to the Hat.

_Well in that case, RAVENCLAW!_

As per the Hat's modus operandi, the last word was not only shouted in Harry's mind, but also to the whole hall.

He forced a smile on his face as he stood and returned the Hat to Professor McGonagall, overwhelmed by what he'd just learned. At the last minute he remembered to return the armchair to its original form.

The smile became more genuine as he looked at his new housemates welcoming him to the fold. Harry was looking forward to this year. His social circle was filled with great people, but admittedly was quite small. He couldn't wait to make some new friends.

Walking down the length of the table, Harry spotted a girl about his age waving him over so he walked the last few yards and slipped in beside her. The girl had mid-length wavy brown hair, hazel eyes and a warm smile.

"Hey, I'm Harry," he introduced himself, giving a smile to those around him.

"We know," she smirked at him. "I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you. I'm one of the prefects for fifth year. And that's Anthony Goldstein, he's the other fifth year prefect," she said, gesturing to his other side.

Harry turned and shook the proffered hand from Anthony.

"I didn't know Ravenclaws were sassy," Harry said, quirking an eyebrow.

From across the table a blonde girl with a dreamy look on her face replied, "With great intelligence comes great wit, Harry Potter. I'm Luna, Luna Lovegood. Pleasure to meet you," she finished with a wave. Harry simply waved back. This was not what he'd expected at all.

At Dumbledore's proclamation the feast began and Harry couldn't contain his reaction as mountains of food appeared before his eyes. It was one thing to hear about it from Charlie, it was quite another to see it for himself.

As Harry somewhat gleefully piled samples of everything before him on to his plate, he was introduced to the others surrounding him, all of them fellow fifth years. Padma Patil (who had an identical twin in Gryffindor), Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Sue Li. The other fifth years were pointed out to him sitting further down the table and Hermione promised to introduce him after the feast.

After the introductions were finished the questions began.

"So Harry, why are you joining Hogwarts now? Why not in first year, or last year with your brother?" Hermione asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of mashed potato. "Oh you know, things to do, places to see," he replied nonchalantly, spearing some honeyed carrots on his fork. This could be quite fun. Ravenclaws _hated _not knowing things.

"That's it!" Padma exclaimed. "You disappear off the face of the Earth and all you have to say is 'things to do, places to see'?"

"Yep," Harry smirked at her, causing her to blush. "Can't go giving away all my secrets just yet, can I?"

"Well what about that stunt you pulled up there?" Terry asked. "Silent magic? We don't learn that until our seventh year."

"I've picked up a few things along the way. And that should really be taught a lot earlier," Harry continued. "It's not as hard as you think and it could save your life one day."

And that's how the rest of dinner proceeded, his classmates asking questions and Harry deflecting them, much to their frustration and his amusement.

Feeling fully satisfied as the last scraps of dessert vanished, Harry glanced up to the head table where Dumbledore was preparing to rise to his feet.

"I think the Headmaster is about to impart some very interesting news," Harry said cryptically. Before anyone could question him the man in question stood and quiet fell.

As Harry suspected, the news of the Tri-Wizard coming to Hogwarts shocked many of the students and excited them all. Instead of watching the Headmaster, he watched the reactions around him. Eternal Glory and a thousand galleons was an attractive prospect. While Dumbledore's final warning quelled the ambition of some, most students remained unfazed.

Finally, the Headmaster sent them off to bed. Harry rose along with his new dormmates as they led him out through the hall and towards Ravenclaw Tower, chatting all the while.

Tomorrow was Sunday and Neville, Susan and Charlie had promised to give him a tour of the school and grounds. He couldn't wait.


End file.
